Making memories on Memorial Day

Our Memorial Day weekend went swimmingly.

It was one of the hottest weekends we’ve had so far this year, and it was sprinkled with rain and thunderstorms.

I realize that Memorial Day is primarily a reminder about our fallen in the face of protecting this country and her freedoms. I have a hard time with the Hallmark-y-ness of it all, with people posting on Facebook or other social media with flags and or other statements of well, if we respected our fallen, we’d try not to make war anymore.

As if one voice has superiority over the next or that anyone gives a shit what you share on the Internets.

But for me, it’s a weekend that lands us in the warmer weather and is an excuse to gather friends in a country so great that we can spend a day together making memories.

Honoring that freedom by being free is honorary enough.

There’s another local phenomenon around Chicago, which I imagine is other places as well, called “Sunday Funday.” And it’s another excuse to get your ass out to bars, only this time on Sunday, and take the day before the long workweek to pound a few … only during the day so you can get home earlier.

I thought that Sunday Funday was one Sunday of the year, but apparently there is no limit to Sunday Fundays. Plus it was Memorial Day weekend, and any excuse to party in Chicago is usually met with open arms. Flailing open arms.

We don’t take part in these SFs, but apparently we’re in the minority.

On Sunday night, we were lying in bed only to be awoken to a guy yelling at another person.

I was stirred by the words, “I can fucking vomit all over your fucking cab if I want to!”

Silence for a beat or two.

The same voice: “Yes I CAN!!!”

“I don’t owe you FIFTY FUCKING DOLLARS!!! Mother fucker, I detail cars for a living. It costs $10 to clean vomit out of a car.”

Another couple beats of silence.

“Fuck you, man. You can go fuck yourself. … Call the police! What do I care. … Go back to Bagdad, you stupid piece of shit. GO BACK TO BAGDAD!!!”

By this time, I had walked to the front windows and looked out to see who was screaming at who. It was a guy, with two other people.

When he finally slammed the car door, and walked away, he walked toward the sidewalk on our side of the street, then to the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Then aimlessly in the middle for a few minutes.

It became quiet again, and I returned to bed and soon fell back asleep.

I couldn’t help but laugh a few times, though, before falling back asleep about the words, “I can vomit all over your cab if I want to.”

It’s this kind of attitude that is disrespectful to this country and all it stands for.

But yesterday, Tina, Talulah and I drove out to the ‘burbs to celebrate American Freedom with our friends. We moved in and out of shelter to avoid the rain.

Bill and I ended up getting several hundred photos of our group. Enjoy some of them here and below the fold.